Page 2 of Masked Secrets
Her twinkling eyes lock with mine just before she whips her head back to the front of the lift.
I’m accustomed to pretty women looking my way, but her overall expression conveyed something extra—an intriguing combination of curiosity and mystery. I’d love to chat with her over a drink and learn more ways to make her smile like that.
Maybe I’ll offer to buy her one while she waits for her guests to arrive—that is, if we ever reach the top of this monstrously tall building.
Suddenly, the lift jerks to a halt. Whoosh!
The woman gasps in shock.
My spine compresses violently, instantly shrinking my frame below its normal 6-foot-plus stature. Grabbing the rail behind me with one hand, I reach for the petite woman flailing backward toward me. Just as I steady her warm back against my body, we’re enveloped in darkness.
Her hand clenches my arm that’s holding her.
“This can’t be happening,” she murmurs through shaky breaths as her body trembles against mine.
Keeping my voice calm, and hopefully reassuring, I say, “It’s okay. I’m sure it’s just a temporary power outage. We’ll be on our way in a jiffy.”
“It’s a brownout. Still, the elevator should be moving to the nearest floor to let us out. Why isn’t it moving?” Her voice is ragged, and her breaths are shallow.
I pull my mobile phone out, turning on the light to check on her.
She leans her head back, tugging at the neck of her blouse as if trying to access more oxygen.
I slowly spin her around. Her face is pale. Her eyes are watery, and beads of sweat dot her forehead.
Then it dawns on me what’s wrong. I douse the light as I ask, “Do you suffer from claustrophobia?”
“Yes. I need out of here. I’m so dizzy,” she mumbles, burying her face against my shirt.
Instinct kicks in, and I have an undeniable need to protect and comfort her.
“I’m going to guide you to the floor, so you can lean your back against the wall. If you’re dizzy, I don’t want to risk you falling, particularly when it’s so dark. Okay?”
I feel her head nod against my chest, and I assist her to a sitting position, keeping my arm around her shoulder.
“We’re going to take several deep breaths together, letting each one out slowly. Focus on my voice. Inhale. One. Two. Three. Four.”
“You’re doing great. Now slowly let the air out as I count. One. Two. Three. Four. Excellent. Now inhale again. Deeper this time.”
We repeat this process several times. Her chest rises and falls against mine, slowing with each successive breath.
I gently rub her back, hoping it will comfort her as she continues taking the deep breaths.
When her heartrate slows to almost normal, I softly ask, “What’s your name?”
“It’s Brooke. Thanks for your kindness. Being stuck in an elevator has always been one of my worst fears. As you found out, I have trouble with small, enclosed spaces.”
“I’m glad you weren’t alone. By the way, I’m Stuart, but most of my friends call me Stu.” I’m still whispering, wanting to keep her as calm as possible under the circumstances.
“Are we already friends, or do I need to call you Stuart still?” she asks in a flirty tone. The spark in her voice is a good sign that she’s adjusting to the situation.
Keeping it upbeat, I say, “Hmm. Stu seems more appropriate for this situation, don’t you think?”
“I guess so. But I must admit to being a little embarrassed at my reaction. It’s frustrating that I’m so bothered when I feel trapped. The rational side of me knows we’ll be okay. Still, there’s this uncontrollable fear that consumes me. It’s like the walls are closing in. At first, I panic. Then the feeling usually passes.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I think everyone has something that causes them to react in a similar fashion. Some people have an intense fear of heights, snakes, or spiders. For me, it’s mice.”
“Do you know why you’re afraid of mice?”
